


Hurt You, Just To Hear You Screaming My Name

by heavvymetalqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Aftercare, Dick Biting, Genital Torture, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:44:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: At first they found reasons to do this, needled and irritated each other, got on each other’s nerves until one of them snapped and fucked the other against a wall. But it’s been a long six months, and John is still in a fucking coma, and they’ve given up any empty pretense that there’s a reason for this other than they’re tired, and horny, and want to make each other hurt a little.





	

He often wondered what Kaz must have been like in the seventies. Shrewd and shamelessly handsome, burning bright and golden, full of dreams and hunger.

He’s known him for six months now, and the only think Kaz Miller is full of is rage, and bitter resentment.

Well, aside from times like this, when Ocelot is pinning him down on his rickety desk, thigh slotted between his and hand tight around his throat. Right now Kaz looks like what John might have fallen for in ‘74 - blond locks stuck to his forehead and aviators askew, mouth curled in a snarl. There’s still a lick of fire in him, and Ocelot enjoys stoking it. 

At first they found reasons to do this, needled and irritated each other, got on each other’s nerves until one of them snapped and fucked the other against a wall. But it’s been a long six months, and John is _still_ in a fucking coma, and they’ve given up any empty pretense that there’s a reason for this other than they’re tired, and horny, and want to make each other hurt a little. 

They’re both pretty good at dishing and taking the hurt. It doesn’t matter as long as it’s going around. 

Kaz elbows him in the face, straight on the nose. 

“Bad move,” hisses Ocelot, twisting his leg upwards so his knee is pressing way too hard on Kaz’s nuts. He licks his upper lip, where a drop of blood has soaked his mustache. Kaz makes a strangled noise and goes for his hair, gripping it hard enough to feel like he’s gonna rip it straight out of his skull. 

Ocelot backhands him, hard, the crack resonating in the small stuffy office, his aviators skittering across the desk and falling onto the floor. Kaz lets go of his hair. Ocelot grabs his wrist, feeling it creak in his hand, and slams it down on the desk. The other is still securely trapped under his back, pinned under their weight. 

“Fucker,” hisses Kaz, stretching his neck out from under his hand, jaws snapping as he tries to bite him.

“That’s right, and don’t you forget it,” grins Ocelot, grinding his knee into Kaz’s crotch, wringing out a sound that’s half pain and half debased pleasure. 

Ocelot knows what Kaz likes. 

Thankfully for these blasted, coarse nights in the desert, it’s exactly what he likes, too. 

“Now be a good boy and relax, before I splatter your dick on this desk.”

Kaz spits in his face. Close enough to the eye to hurt a little. 

“You little shit,” growls Ocelot. 

Kaz laughs, teeth bared and slanted eyes dark. “Not my fault you can’t even get it up unless I give you a fight.”

His knee grinds even deeper, tears gathering in Kaz’s eyes but his grin still plastered on his face like a rictus. Ocelot leans forward, licking a stripe up Kaz’s chin, biting his lower lip until he draws blood. 

Kaz eagerly spits the blood in his mouth before attaching himself to his tongue and sucking desperately.

Ocelot grinds circles in his groin like he’s trying to crush a bug, but Kaz’s erection does not die - if anything, it gets even heavier against his knee, pants soaked through with his precome. 

“Are you gonna come from me crushing your dick, Miller,” rasps Ocelot, leaving a trail of bloody bites along his jaw. “Can you actually come before I bust your balls right out of your sack?”

Kaz whimpers, pushing against his knee even harder, bloody drool trailing down his parted lips.

“C’mon Kaz,” he growls as he bites into his neck, thundering pulse on his tongue. 

Kaz writhes and screams, thrashes under him swearing and drooling blood all over himself, creaming his fatigues right under Ocelot’s merciless knee. 

“Good boy,” he whispers, giving him one last grind just to watch him whimper.

“Get off me, you sadistic fuck,” croaks Kaz, jostling him off with a roll of his hips, kicking him back as soon as he can plant his boots on his chest. 

Ocelot slams back into the wooden wall in an explosion of dust and splinters, and Kaz crumples to the ground, blood still leaking out of his mouth and a predatory look in his eyes. 

He shouldn’t even be able to _move_ with the beating he just took to his dick, but if there’s something that John was right about Kaz is that he never, ever gives up. He crawls across the floor to him, hands pinning his thighs down, knees heavy on his feet, holding him in place as he smothers his face into his crotch, mouthing his erection through his pants.

“I should crush your dick more often,” laughs Ocelot, pushing his head away to unzip. Kaz is there instantly, face buried into his open pants and licking his cock into his mouth, sloppy and bloody and full of sharp teeth just like Ocelot likes it. 

He fists his hair and pulls him in sharply, shoving his cock all the way down his throat until Kaz’s nose is pressed into his pubes and he’s gasping and gagging and drooling.

“You nasty slut,” he growls, fucking himself with his throat, chasing an orgasm that’s close, so close already....

Kaz pulls back sharply, pushing him back into the wall. When Ocelot tries to thrust, he finds teeth closed around the head of his cock, pressing down just enough to stop him in his tracks. 

“Kaz, come on,” he groans, trying to struggle free, but the teeth hold tight. 

Kaz looks up, smug and feral. “’Ay ‘lease,” he growls. 

“Fuck you.”

He bites down hard enough to hurt. “’Ay. ‘Lease.”

Ocelot twists his hair into his fists but Kaz doesn’t let go, and he’s so fucking _close_.

“Kaz, _please_ ,” he grits out, desperate to come. 

Kaz gives one last sharp bite and then goes completely loose, letting Ocelot thrust down his throat again, fuck his face in stuttering, shallow thrusts until he throws his head back and shoots his load. He pushes him back as he’s still coming, making sure he gets as much come on Kaz’s bloody face as possible. Kaz just kneels on the floor, panting, drooling come and blood out of his slack mouth. 

“God, you’re _disgusting_ ,” sneers Ocelot, leaning over to kiss him and suck the mixture off his tongue. 

“Look who’s talking,” grins Kaz, flopping back on his ass with a satisfied sigh. 

Ocelot pushes past him to drop into his chair, lazily tucking himself back in his pants and patting the top of the desk. 

Kaz stumbles to his feet, legs wobbly as he approaches the desk, leaning against it. He lets Ocelot undo his pants and push them down along with his underwear before sitting on the desk. 

Ocelot clinically checks for damage on his dick and balls, turning the soft member in his hand carefully. It’s mottled with green and purple bruises but it looks fine. It even gives a tired, slightly interested twitch in his hand. 

“I should go harder on you next time,” he chuckles, reaching up to pull Kaz’s face down to his level. There’s a first aid kit in the first drawer and it’s been there since the very first time. 

Kaz hisses when he disinfects the bites on his jaw, but sits quietly and lets himself be taken care of. At first he’d refused, his dumb samurai pride stinging at the carefulness, the very _concept_ of aftercare clearly alien to him. But by now he lets Ocelot patch him up, and even reciprocates when he’s the one doing the damage. 

The bite on his lip is still bleeding. Pretty sure he chewed off a piece there. He presses a gauze to it, watching it turn crimson. 

Kaz, clearly feeling generous, runs a hand in his hair. He has a dopey smile on his face. 

“You _really_ liked that, didn’t you?”

“Mm.”

“You’re even more messed up than I previously thought, Miller.”

“Mm.” He leans over, resting his cheek on top of Ocelot’s head.

Who knew near castration made Kaz cuddly. You learn new something every day.

“Well, down you go,” chuckles Ocelot, getting off his chair and leading him to crumple into it. “Back to work, Commander.”

Kaz slumps on the desk and smiles lazily as Ocelot’s retreating back. “Same time tomorrow?”

“If you’re lucky,” he sneers, closing the door behind him and knowing full well they’re both gonna be lucky tomorrow. 

He should grab a few things from his interrogation supplies first, though.


End file.
